


shelter from the storm

by redxcranberry



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Enthusiastic Consent, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Top Sylvain Jose Gautier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-19 09:14:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29624022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redxcranberry/pseuds/redxcranberry
Summary: The fact is, Felix has felt this way about Sylvain for a long time. They grew up together, and they've always been close. But sometime between the hazy days of their childhood and their current war-torn reality, Felix’s feelings about their friendship morphed into something more. He’s not sure exactly when it happened, but it did, and those stubborn sentiments have absolutely refused to go away no matter how angrily Felix tries to push them down whenever they threaten to resurface. He’s successfully avoided addressing it for years, though he’s got a feeling Sylvain knows more than he lets on.And now he’s snowed in. For an indeterminate amount of time. With Sylvain.Fuck.Or: During a fierce blizzard, Felix and Sylvain find refuge in a secluded log cabin and, eventually, in each other.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 6
Kudos: 166





	shelter from the storm

Felix raises a hand to shield his eyes from the fading evening sun. The whistling wind whips up frenzied gusts of the powdered snow that coats everything in sight, its wintry waves the only movement visible in the vast expanse of sparkling, blinding white. 

There’s a swell of ominous clouds hurtling in from the east. From the looks of it, it’s quickly gaining speed. Felix watches with apprehension as the clouds’ shadows hungrily swallow up the patches of woods and barren fields separating him from the oncoming storm, significantly reducing visibility with every passing minute.

The mission Felix originally set out to complete on this ill-fated journey was to drive out some roving bandits causing mischief along the Fraldarius-Gautier border and, if it came down to it, to dispatch any Adrestian soldiers he happened to come across along the way. Sylvain had insisted upon joining him, of course. Felix had weakly protested on principle, telling him he didn’t need any assistance, _thank you very much_ \- but he knew Sylvain would see right through his excuses. 

It’s been nearly three years since Edelgard’s siege of Garreg Mach turned everything Felix thought he knew upside down. Since then, Felix has spent most of his time protecting his homeland along with the other remaining great houses of Faerghus still fighting to save the Kingdom. It’s bitter work and sometimes it feels like it will never end, but there isn’t exactly an alternative. And though he would never say it out loud, any reason for him and Sylvain to see more of each other is good in Felix’s book.

Sylvain is at Felix’s side now, mounted atop his trusty mare, while Felix rides an old gelding borrowed from the Fraldarius stable master. He still hasn’t gotten used to riding. He’s pretty sure he’ll never feel as at home in the saddle as Sylvain does, but he’ll admit a horse is a hell of a lot faster than traveling on foot. 

They successfully routed a few groups of scoundrels earlier in the day, but many more vanished into the woods. And now Felix and Sylvain are alone, without shelter, and very, very far away from home.

“Big storm’s coming,” Sylvain says, gazing towards the horizon. “Doesn’t look good.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Felix mumbles. He’s not stupid - the dark mass gathering in the distance can only mean one thing, and they’re much too far from the Fraldarius estate to make it back before being caught up in the blizzard.

Sylvain lets out a broken laugh, its sound empty and humorless. “I always imagined a slightly more glorious end, but it would be just our luck to freeze to death out here in the middle of nowhere. Edelgard would find that amusing, don’t you think?”

“Don’t joke about that kind of thing,” Felix snaps. Even thinking about dying - thinking about _Sylvain_ dying - is enough to make the anxiety that’s been constantly brewing in the pit of his stomach over the past few years bubble over completely. “We’re not dying today.”

“I hate to break it to you, Felix, but unless you know something I don’t, that’s a distinct possibility.”

Felix smirks, and Sylvain’s eyebrows shoot upwards. “What if I said I did?”

“Then I guess it wouldn’t be the first time.”

Felix lets out a short laugh. He grabs the reins and spurs his horse into action, motioning towards the path behind them. 

“Follow me.”

❖❖❖

The weather steadily grows worse as they traverse across plains and deep into the forest. Their horses’ hooves press into the winding, overgrown path as they go, their semicircular impressions almost immediately erased by the freshly falling flakes. Felix can tell that Sylvain is nervous. He’d normally be chatting up a storm during a journey like this, but now he’s silent as the snow that’s rapidly accumulating all around them.

It takes the better part of an hour for Felix to find what he’s looking for. 

Finally, they reach the crest of a tall, sloping hill. A clearing surrounded by a copse of tall evergreens comes into view and, along with it, their first sign of civilization in miles. There’s a small apple orchard, a stable for horses, and a pond with a narrow dock. A two-person rowboat sits overturned along the water’s edge, its wooden sides overgrown with browning weeds. And in the center of the clearing, their destination - a tiny log cabin surrounded by thickets of holly bushes.

“Whoa,” Sylvain speaks for the first time in a while. “What is this?”

“Welcome to the Fraldarius summer estate,” Felix jokes. “It’s not much, but it’s ours. My dad, Glenn, and I used to come here all the time as a family.” 

The lake and nearby woods usually teem with wildlife in the warmer seasons. But now the clearing is quiet as a graveyard, and the pond’s surface is frozen over with several inches of impenetrable ice. 

Yet in some ways, the space is just as Felix remembers it. He has many fond memories of spending childhood summers here - hunting in the forest, fishing in the pond, and foraging in the underbrush for mushrooms and berries to eat. They’d spend all day outside having fun, then pass the nights roasting fresh meat over the bonfire, laughing and telling each other scary stories under a blanket of twinkling stars.

But that was a long time ago - things were different then. Felix was different.

“And it’s still yours?” Sylvain asks.

“Technically my father’s, but I doubt he would complain about us using it without his permission considering we’ll freeze to death otherwise.”

Sylvain laughs in response. “Well, I’ll have to send him a thank you gift for saving our hides.”

They get their horses settled in the stable before heading to the cabin’s entrance. The door is stuck in its frame, and for a moment Felix worries they’ll have to bust in, but a few good whacks later and the door swings inward, its hinges creaking from disuse.

As they step over the threshold, Felix can’t help but think how strange it is to return after so long. He must have been barely a teenager the last time he was here, yet the interior looks just as it did all those years ago. It’s a modest abode - there’s a narrow galley kitchen on one side of the cabin and, on the other, a small sitting area surrounding an old stone fireplace. Above them is a loft with several beds. Felix remembers well how excited he always used to be to come here. It had seemed a world away from the stuffy Fraldarius castle with all its opulence and formality and unwelcome expectations.

“I can’t believe you never told me about this place!” Sylvain exclaims, eyes wide as he takes in the scene.

“Well,” Felix says, “we stopped coming here years ago and I kind of forgot about it. Things weren’t really the same, after…” Felix trails off, but he knows Sylvain can very well guess what he was going to say. _After Glenn died._

Sylvain walks in circles across the uneven floor, marveling at the cabin’s cozy quarters. The only adornment on the cabin’s wooden walls is a navy blue banner bearing the Fraldarius coat of arms.

“So it’s just been sitting here ever since?” Sylvain says as he inspects the dusty banner between his fingers, curious as always. “I’m surprised thieves haven’t found and ransacked the place by now.”

“It’s fairly well hidden and in the middle of nowhere.” Felix lets his bag roll off his shoulders. It hits the floor with an emphatic _thump_ as he lowers his aching body onto a nearby chair and sighs. “And there’s not exactly much here to ransack in the first place.”

“Fair point,” Sylvain says with a nod. Aside from the bearskin rug by the fireplace and a few pewter cups and pieces of silverware in the kitchen, there’s essentially nothing of value to be found in the building apart from the shelter it affords. 

Being stuck here is certainly not ideal, but Felix is grateful to have a moment of rest after the near-constant traveling of the last few days. He pulls his sword out of its scabbard and inspects the blade for damage - it took a few hard hits during their last skirmish - but everything looks to be in order.

Sylvain makes his way towards the window, where snow is already starting to pile up against the edges of the panes of glass. “Looks like we’re going to be here at least overnight.”

“Looks like it.”

“Guess we’ll just have to entertain each other, then.” Sylvain offers.

Felix feels his cheeks flush red. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m perfectly capable of entertaining myself, unlike some people who have to prattle on incessantly just to get through the day.”

Sylvain takes the jab in stride, a teasing smile flitting across his face. “That’s the Felix I know. I can tell we’re going to have fun stuck in here together.”

“Hmph.” Now Felix’s heart is pounding against his ribcage, its rhythmic beat echoing in his ears as Sylvain waits expectantly for a response. “Make yourself useful and grab some firewood, won’t you? Should be in the closet next to the kitchen.”

Sylvain takes a dramatic bow, his nose nearly scraping the floorboards. “As you wish, my liege.”

The prospect of spending a night with Sylvain, with nowhere to go, far away from anyone else…Felix has certainly fantasized about this situation more than once. But he never thought it would _actually_ happen. 

He tries to busy himself by retrieving a bottle of oil and an old rag from his bag to polish his sword. Weapons maintenance is something that never fails to calm Felix’s nerves on the eve of a battle. But this is different. This isn’t discussing wartime strategy, or cutting through an enemy line, or any one of the many skills Felix has honed over the last few years. This is something that Felix is very much _not_ good at - namely, dealing with those pesky things called feelings.

The fact is, Felix has felt this way about Sylvain for a long time. They grew up together, and they've always been close. But sometime between the hazy days of their childhood and their current war-torn reality, Felix’s feelings about their friendship morphed into something more. He’s not sure exactly when it happened, but it did, and those stubborn sentiments have absolutely refused to go away no matter how angrily Felix tries to push them down whenever they threaten to resurface. He’s successfully avoided addressing it for years, though he’s got a feeling Sylvain knows more than he lets on.

And now he’s snowed in. For an indeterminate amount of time. With Sylvain.

 _Fuck_.

“Jackpot!” 

Felix turns his head to see Sylvain returning from the kitchen. He’s got a bundle of firewood under one arm while his other hand is held high in triumph, his long fingers wrapped around the necks of two bottles containing a dark, reddish liquid.

“What are those?”

Sylvan sets the firewood down by the hearth and hands Felix one of the bottles to inspect. “Seems like this place wasn’t as empty as we thought! You didn’t tell me you had boxes of wine stored away in there.”

The bottle is of a good weight. It has the Blaiddyd family’s coat of arms emblazoned along the curve of the glass. Felix vaguely remembers his father mentioning something about the wine years and years ago; it was a gift from King Lambert that Rodrigue brought home from one of his diplomatic trips to Fhirdiad. Back then, Felix hadn’t paid attention to the bottles considering he had been much too young for alcohol. 

“I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t mind popping open one or two of these.” 

Felix nods. After the day they’ve had, he could use a drink. “You take care of that and I’ll get the fire going.”

Five minutes later, Felix has the start of a small fire slowly crackling to life. He carefully tends the flame, rubbing his numb hands together and sighing with relief as the growing heat washes over him.

Meanwhile, Sylvain has managed to rummage around in the kitchen and find something for them to drink out of. He carefully pours a steady stream of the garnet liquid into two tall glasses and hands one to Felix, who readily accepts. They sit down on the plush rug in front of the hearth together, basking in the fire’s balmy glow.

“Cheers!” Sylvain says, holding his glass aloft. “To not dying.”

“To not dying.” Felix clinks glasses with Sylvain. 

It burns his throat as it goes down, and it’s slightly sweet. Wine isn’t Felix’s drink of choice, but it tastes almost heavenly after trudging around in the cold for hours.

Maybe being snowed in isn’t so bad. They can pretend that things are like they used to be, that there’s no war raging across the country they once knew as idyllic and peaceful, that they’re not scared to death that they’ll never know what “normal” feels like ever again.

There’s a short pause during which the only sound in the room comes from the crackling fire as they both nurse their drinks. Felix watches the flames lick up the sides of the woodpile, the bark on each log curling in on itself as it catches alight and slowly turns to ash.

Finally, Felix breaks the silence. “It’s been a while since we drank together,” he murmurs.

“It has,” Sylvain says. “I like drinking with you. It’s just like old times.”

It’s true, though Felix hasn’t had much time for such frivolities lately. It’s a nice kind of nostalgia, sitting here and drinking with Sylvain. There was many a feast at Garreg Mach where the two of them overindulged on dining hall ale, then ended up roaming the monastery and getting into all sorts of trouble.

“Remember that time we got wasted and dared each other to steal those meat pies from the kitchen?” Sylvain reminisces, chuckling and shaking his head. “We were _this_ close to getting caught by Seteth."

Felix snorts. He doubts he could ever forget that. “Do I ever. He would have put us on stable duty for months to make up for it, I’m sure. Not that you would have minded tending to the horses.”

“And all those times we snuck up to the roof of the dormitories to drink and watch the stars? I don’t know how we never fell off and died, honestly,” Sylvain says.

Felix smiles as he takes another sip. Those are some of his fondest memories from the academy. “What about when you somehow convinced me to go swimming in the half-frozen fishing pond with you in the middle of winter?”

“It wasn’t anything that anyone who grew up in Faerghus couldn’t handle.”

“It was fucking _cold_.”

“You know,” Sylvain says, a mischievous glint in his eye, “we could recreate that right here, right now. We’ve got everything we need. You, me, a frozen pond…”

“You’re out of your mind.” Felix tries to make it a reprimand, but his tone is much softer than usual.

Sylvain laughs, deep and sincere, and the sound sends a rush of warm affection surging through Felix’s veins that’s so strong it nearly knocks him clean over. Something about Sylvain’s laugh is wildly infectious and soon enough Felix is giggling right along with him, which only sends Sylvain into another bout of laughter. He’d almost forgotten how much he craved spending time with his best friend; just being near Sylvain is making Felix feel more relaxed and at home than he has in a long time. 

He doesn’t know how much time they pass just talking and laughing together, but somehow Felix’s doesn’t care in the slightest. He’d be perfectly content sharing old stories with Sylvain until dawn. 

It’s in the middle of one of these tales that Felix raises his glass to his lips and finds it almost empty. He tilts his head backwards to sip down what’s left, shaking the last few drops into his mouth.

“Another?” Sylvain motions to the second bottle. 

Felix nods enthusiastically.

“Hey, thanks for letting me come with you. On this mission, I mean.” Sylvain says as he uncorks the bottle and carefully fills both glasses nearly to the brim. His auburn hair shines like burnished copper in the low light of the fire as he hands Felix’s drink back to him. “I know you usually like to go it alone.”

“Don’t mention it,” Felix answers. “It’s good to fight together again.”

Sylvain raises a hand to the back of his neck. “What has it been, nearly six moons since we last saw each other?”

“Something like that,” Felix says. _Far too long_. “You know that you’re always welcome in Fraldarius.“

“And you in Gautier,” Sylvain responds, “though I doubt you’d enjoy seeing my crusty old bastard of a father any more than I do.”

Felix chuckles, nearly choking on his wine as he does so. Sylvain snickers at his sputtering, and Felix feels his heart pitter-patter once more at the sound. “I can’t exactly say I miss having to deal with the old Margrave.”

“Neither do I when I’m away from home,” Sylvain admits. “You’re much better company.”

The fire’s died down a bit, so Felix grabs another piece of firewood and throws it in. A shower of golden sparks flies upwards as the log settles onto the smoldering pile. Felix and Sylvain watch it burn for a moment, appreciating the mesmerizing flames and the life-bringing warmth radiating from the glowing hearth. Meanwhile, the wind howls outside as the storm rages on, whistling through the woods and rattling the door in its frame. By now it’s so dark they can only see the shadows of snowflakes as they flash past the window.

Felix sighs. ”I should be apologizing to you, getting you caught up in this mess.”

“No need to apologize for anything. I _wanted_ to come, remember?” Sylvain smiles at Felix as he speaks, and Felix notices his cheeks are tinged a ruddy red. Felix knows from experience that Sylvain can hold his own when it comes to drinking, but he must be feeling the wine after all. 

Sylvain takes another sip before continuing. “And there’s no way we could have known this would happen.”

“Regardless, I’m sure getting trapped in a cabin with me in the middle of nowhere wasn't exactly high on your to-do list.”

“I really don’t mind.” Sylvain’s tone is insistent. “Besides, there’s no one I’d rather be snowed in with than you.” 

Sylvain says it so matter-of-factly and with such blunt honesty, his tone completely devoid of its usual joking lilt, that at first Felix thinks he might have imagined the words. But when Felix tears his gaze away from the fire and looks over at Sylvain, he’s staring directly back into his eyes without a hint of levity, his chocolate brown irises boring into Felix’s pools of amber.

“I’ve missed you, Fe.”

The nickname hits Felix like a ton of bricks. Sylvain’s the only one who’s ever called him that, and he’s only now realizing how much he’s missed hearing it. “I-“ Felix stutters, “I’ve missed you, too.”

Sylvain smiles softly. He pauses for a while before gazing at Felix, pensive. “Do you ever think about it? About what we’ll do when the war is over and we’ve made it through to the other side?”

“ _If_ we make it through.”

“Fine,” Sylvain says, “if we make it through.”

“Maybe every once in a while,” Felix lies.

The truth is, Felix _has_ thought about it. Too much, in fact. About what he wants to do with his life and who he wants to do it with. About what he’s afraid to lose. The thought gives him no joy, so he’s operating under the assumption that he’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it. In the meantime, he’s poured all his energy into fighting. 

The war has given him that, at least. Let him focus on the here and now, on surviving instead of planning out a future beyond this conflict that he never asked for.

“Well, I’ve been thinking about it,” Sylvain continues. “A lot, actually.”

Felix tries to keep his tone casual. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Felix looks over to see Sylvain staring into the fire, the constellations of freckles that dot his skin accentuated by the flame’s golden glow.

“About what I want when this is all over. Not what my parents want from me. What _I_ want.”

Felix sits motionless and says nothing, afraid he’ll break the spell.

“I’d like to take over Gautier. But I wouldn’t be like my father. After all the damage my family has done…I want to be the one to use my nobility for good.” Sylvain turns to Felix, an intense look on his face. “Make the world a better place. Or at least try, you know?”

“I know what you mean.” Felix would bet anything Sylvain would be ten times the leader his father ever was. 

“And I want to do it all with someone I actually love by my side, not some poor bride chosen by my parents.”

There’s a glint in Sylvain’s eyes as he says it, and Felix prays that the light from the fire is dim enough to hide the scarlet red blush blooming across his cheeks. Felix has caught Sylvain staring at him a number of times before with that same curious expression, his face portraying a mix of hesitancy, hope, and something else that Felix isn’t quite able to place. 

It’s the kind of look that allows Felix to wonder if maybe, _just maybe_ his feelings are reciprocated.

“What about you?”

Felix shrugs. “I suppose I’ll take over from my father as well, assuming there’s anything left to inherit once he’s gone.”

“We’d see a lot of each other then!” Sylvain says happily. “Goddess knows our fathers have had to put up with each other on a regular basis for the good of the Kingdom.”

“Or maybe if it all goes to hell, I’ll end up as a mercenary,” Felix muses. “See the world outside of Fódlan for once. Travel wherever the job takes me.”

“That sounds like something you’d enjoy.”

Felix nods. “But no matter where I go or what I do,” he says, his heart racing, “I think I already know who I want by my side.”

“Do you?” Sylvain looks half-shocked, half expectant.

There’s a beat, and a million thoughts rush through Felix’s head all at once.

How long has he pined after Sylvain, the only one who’s been with him through thick and thin, the only one who’s always seen Felix at his most vulnerable time and time again? He’s spent most of his adult life living under a cloud of uncertainty, existing in the moment to survive and not much else. But living for Sylvain, _with_ Sylvain - well, maybe that’s all the reason he needs.

Felix isn’t sure if it’s the liquid courage coursing through his veins, the atmosphere, the late hour, or a combination of all three, but in that moment he decides to do something both very brave and very stupid.

 _Fuck it_.

Felix grabs Sylvain by the shoulders and pulls him close, bringing their lips together in a sloppy, uncoordinated kiss. For the smallest period of time, Sylvain is caught off guard, his body completely stiff under Felix’s hands. But it takes mere seconds before Sylvain goes limp, melting into Felix’s embrace.

When they finally break apart, Sylvain stares at him, wide-eyed. He says nothing, and for a second Felix thinks he’s made a terrible mistake. His mind goes blank as Sylvain gazes back at him, both of them searching for the right words.

“Felix, I-“

“Sylvain-“

They speak at the same time, each immediately hesitating. There’s another short pause, and Felix decides to take the plunge.

“I’m tired of waiting,” Felix says, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he can think better of it and change his mind. “I’m sorry if this…if this makes things weird between us. I just…I needed you to know.”

Sylvain remains silent, and Felix’s panic grows.

“Fuck, Syl, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I can leave, if you want - I’ll sleep in the stables, really-“

“Felix, stop.” Sylvain raises a hand to gently cradle Felix’s jaw in his palm, and his expression is as gentle and loving as any Felix has ever seen. He moves closer until their foreheads are nearly touching and Felix freezes in place, not daring to take another breath.

“I only wish you’d told me sooner.”

Sylvain leans in to meet Felix’s lips once more, and Felix’s world tilts on its axis.

He’s an exhilarating mix of dizzy and elated as he returns the favor, gliding his tongue across Sylvain’s bottom lip and wrapping his arms around Sylvain’s waist to pull him closer still. Sylvain tastes like wine and warmth and everything Felix ever could have asked for all at once as they fall back onto the rug side by side, lips still locked together like they’ll never let go.

Soon they’re pulling at each other’s clothes, clumsily unbuttoning and unbuckling all that stands between each other’s bare skin. By the time they’re done, errant undershirts and socks lie carelessly strewn about the wooden floor. Both of them are flushed and panting lightly as Sylvain kneels above Felix, whose long, untied hair fanned out across the carpet creates an inky halo.

“ _Felix_ ,” Sylvain croons. He inhales sharply when Felix raises an arm and winds his fingers through Sylvain’s ginger locks.

For Felix, the sound of his own name leaving Sylvain’s lips like that is sweeter than any sonata he’s ever heard. “I want you,” Felix admits, reveling in his newfound boldness, “so badly. Goddess, Sylvain-“

Sylvain silences him by surging down for another kiss, and Felix swears he hears the hint of a whine in the back of Sylvain’s throat. When Sylvain pulls away, the look he gives Felix could melt solid ice with its intensity.

“Fuck, Felix, I’ve wanted you for _so long-_ ”

Felix almost wants to pinch himself to make sure he’s not dreaming, but all his doubts dissipate when Sylvain leans down to nuzzle into the crook of his shoulder, nipping here and there at Felix’s alabaster skin. Felix moans and his spine arcs instinctively as Sylvain shimmies an arm underneath the small of his back, pulling him upwards until their chests are pressed together, breaths mingling in the still chilly cabin air.

Feeling emboldened and more than a little desperate, Felix reaches down to grab Sylvain’s hand and positions it on his half-hard cock. He groans as Sylvain’s fingers curl around his length. When he looks up to meet Sylvain’s gaze, Sylvain gives Felix a quick grin before darting down to take Felix wholly in his mouth. He teases slowly at first but gains in intensity until Felix is gasping for breath and holding onto Sylvain’s shoulders for dear life.

When Sylvain slows, Felix pulls Sylvain upwards until they’re side by side. He grasps Sylvain’s cock, feeling it throb in his palm, and pours all his energy into making Sylvain feel good. It’s not long before Sylvain is moaning unashamedly, thoroughly overstimulated by Felix’s deft hands.

After a minute, Sylvain curses and pulls back. He frantically begins rooting around behind him for the bottle of oil discarded by Felix earlier, sending an empty wine bottle rolling across the floor in his haste.

Felix’s pulse races at the implication. He nods his enthusiastic consent when Sylvain returns, his own cock straining at the lack of contact, and watches with bated breath as Sylvain pours the clear liquid onto his hands.

“Ready?” 

Felix nods.

Sylvain repositions himself between Felix’s spread legs and Felix takes his hand, guiding Sylvain’s slicked up fingers towards his entrance. Felix lets the sensation wash over him as Sylvain stretches and probes deeper until he’s quaking where he lies and begging for release.

And when Sylvain finally finishes his teasing and thrusts home into Felix, the sensation wipes Felix’s mind nearly blank with its ferocity.

Exploring each other’s bodies is the closest Felix has ever come to seeing heaven. He’s so perfectly saturated with pleasure that the room feels like it’s spinning around him and Sylvain is his rock anchoring him to the earth. There’s the soft plush of Sylvain’s lips, so sweet and sinful against Felix’s skin; the smooth and silky grain of his auburn hair as it slides though Felix’s fingers like quicksand; the callouses of Sylvain’s hands, rough yet gentle as they steadily work to pull Felix apart at the seams.

They lose track of time as they make love, feeling each other’s bodies act and react in sync and whispering hushed praise and affirmations at every opportunity. Sylvain’s fingers trail along Felix’s sides, pushing and pulling at supple skin just so, while Felix clings onto him, his fingertips pressed tight into the freckled flesh of Sylvain’s shoulders. Tiny sparks emanate from every point of contact between them, setting Felix’s nerves alight until his whole body feels like it’s floating, untethered from all his worries if only for the night.

The way they move together, lit only by the fire’s dancing flame, is the perfect duet of light and dark, of hot and cold, of overwhelming need and pure bliss. And when Felix finally comes, it’s with Sylvain’s name on his lips and Sylvain’s arms wrapped tightly around his waist. Sylvain is soon to follow, grunting quietly and collapsing beside Felix as they come back down to reality.

They listen to each other’s breathing slowly return to normal and lie in place, too cozy to move. Felix even nods off for a minute or two, perfectly content to remain where he is as the storm rages on outside.

Only glowing embers remain in the hearth when they finally arise, stumbling around the cabin in the dark until they make their way up the stairs. They clumsily fall into bed together, huddling side-by-side under the blanket for warmth, skin against skin.

“I love you,” Sylvain whispers, his words half promise, half prayer. “Felix, I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Felix says the words with more conviction than he’s ever had.

Sylvain merely pulls him closer in response, and Felix hums contentedly as he closes his eyes and snuggles into Sylvain’s chest.

The room’s spinning has slowed now, yet Felix feels like he’s in a dreamlike state, still in disbelief that what just happened was real. But if it is a dream, Felix doesn’t want to wake up just yet. The last thing he remembers before he falls asleep is Sylvain’s solid warmth beside him as they slowly drift off together.

In the morning, they’ll wake up to the sun glinting off a crisp coat of white that stretches as far as the eye can see. They’ll smile and laugh and nurse their hangovers over breakfast, then spend all day wrapped in each other’s arms, slowly making up for years of lost time. And in this wintry oasis, so far away from the blood and death that’s come to define the last few years, Felix lets himself wonder if perhaps there’s a future for him to look forward to after all.

**Author's Note:**

> And then they survive the war and live happily every after until they die on the same day, as if conceding one could not live without the other. 
> 
> [This fic now has art!](https://twitter.com/lunaticality/status/1367637350252220419) Thank you so much to the lovely Lunaticality for the drawing!
> 
> Thank you for reading ♡ 
> 
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